Marry Me, Rule Me, Beat Me to PULPY Bits!
by Koala Kitty
Summary: Cologne is getting desperate, and finally decides she'd rather have a slavering Ranma for a son-in-law than suffer failure. But it's not Shampoo he's begging to be his mistress and beat him to bits. . .


Okay, I can't take it anymore. Jesus. "I hate it when you do that!" "Well I hate YOU!" "Good, cuz you make me sick!" "Why do you stick around anyway?" "Because I LOVE you, you (insert list of insults here) idiot!" "Damn you, I love you too!"

And then they crank out the Kama Sutra.

Or, hey, just sort of kiss, and then make up, and there's a big sappy thing and she hits him and all is back to normal but now. . . now they're in luuuuuuuuuurve.

Can't take it anymore.

This is a one-shot, I'm writing it to get it out of my system, end of scenario, thank you.

Disclaimer: If I owned it, I wouldn't want people writing fanfiction about it, so obviously me and my hypocritical behind don't own these characters.

Marry Me, Rule Me, Beat Me to PULPY Bits!

"Last chance, Saotome. Either you agree to be at the empty lot at precisely seven PM, or I tell Akane about all those times you paid me to keep quiet about your dates with Kodachi," Nabiki smirked, leaning back on her elbows as she regarded Ranma Saotome, the great, undefeated Ranma Saotome. Who was, even as she watched him, visibly squirming in discomfort.

Hell of a power trip, really.

"But that never happened! You can't blackmail me with things I've never done!" he protested, obviously not comprehending the main principle of her dealings with him. Honesty never entered into it. She tossed her head lazily, deciding to twist the knife a little deeper.

"And your dates with Shampoo."

"But, but I never went on a date with . . . except for the instant Spring-of-Drowned-Man, but that doesn't. . ."

"And Ukyou."

"I have NEVER. . . I. . . you're going to lie to your own sister?" he asked, realization finally dawning in his eyes. Those pretty blue eyes. He was an handsome man, surely. His was a clear, honest, open face—never clouded by thought. Any sort of thought, really.

It sort of saddened her that the material he provided her with for blackmail had dwindled to the point that she had to rely on falsehoods, but Nabiki Tendo was resourceful.

"Akane already suspects it of you. And really, I don't know that you aren't sleeping around on my baby sister, so I might do her a favor by letting her know." I love twisting logic for him, he never gets it.

"I . .. . Nabiki!" he said, finally shocked into near wordlessness. I didn't really want to tell her that. I kind of like the big lug, and it's always nice to have in-laws that are easily manipulated. Accusing him of sleeping with other women was a big, ugly gun I hated to train on him. . . but I didn't have a heck of a lot of choice.

Cologne has dirt on me. On my whole family. She has documentation of all the people Akane nearly beat to death before Father stopped teaching her martial arts (which was dumb, he should have continued teaching her to control herself) and the money I had paid out so the police would look the other way, so Akane could go to school like a normal kid and not have psychologists telling her she was a freak for the rest of her life.

The pictures of Kasumi are the most disturbing, and would likely cost my sister any chance she has with doctor Tofu. There was a period of time when my big sister wanted so badly to be loved that she would do anything—including let people take pictures of her getting all wet and gooey with some of the guys she used to date. If it were anyone but Kasumi, people would understand. She was ignored by her father, used as a surrogate mother by her little siblings, and she wasn't all that great at anything. . . until she graduated high school she wasn't a real happy camper. But it's Kasumi, and people expect her to be perfect.

Perfect is a lot for someone to bear. And if Tofu, damn him, saw the pictures of her with . . . he'd never speak to her again, and it would shatter my sister's heart. Heaven only knows how Cologne got a hold of those pictures, the little ghoul was so happy when she watched my face as they were splayed across the table. . . .

She has dirt on me, too. Years of using graft makes you sloppy, and I actually used a traceable account for some bills a few months back. Stupid me.

All she wants, all Cologne and her twisted little Amazon babies want, is Ranma. And I'm perfectly willing to give him to them. At precisely seven PM.

"Seven PM, Saotome. If you don't show, I'll make sure you wish you were never born," I threatened, and turned away from him. I heard the door open and close behind me.

"Sorry, kid," I whispered, fingering the bottle I had been instructed to give him. A love potion, I assumed. They told me to slip it into something he drank right before he headed out.

And I would. Heaven help the little sucker, I would.

The sun was just setting as Ranma set out, comfortably full of tea and cookies. He walked slowly, grimly, as a man would walk to his execution.

Nabiki had refused to tell him what would be waiting for him in the empty lot. But he was sure, as he had been sure of few things in his short life, that he wouldn't like what he saw when he arrived.

"Ranma?" someone asked, behind him. He turned to see Akane, her hands full of shopping bags. She looked breathless and giddy—shopping with friends, he guessed. He smiled for her.

"Where are you headed?" he asked.

"I told Sayuri and Yuki I'd meet them, I just had a present to . . . I mean, I had some things to buy, they wanted to go on ahead, and. . ." her words trailed off into muttering, and she blushed bright scarlet as she stared at her feet. The smile on his face turned into a smirk.

"Buying a present, huh?" he teased, and she blushed an even deeper red. "Ha! I knew it. I bet it's for me, isn't it?"

"O. . . of course not! Why would I ever get a present for you?" she asked, but she wouldn't raise her eyes. He chuckled and turned away from her, clasping his hands behind his head as he walked.

"Riiiiiiight. I guess clumsy tomboys like you don't buy presents for hunky guys, they just. . . " he was going to say "hit them" but he never got the words out- a very large, very heavy mallet hit his head with considerable force right in the middle of his sentence. The bearer of the mallet, tears in her eyes, lifted it off him only to smash it on his head again.

"You jerk!" she cried.

"You sure this one work, Great-Grandmother?" Shampoo asked, her eyes scanning the sidewalk leading to the empty lot.

"Of course I'm sure. I didn't really want to use it, but we're running out of options. The other elders are beginning to think I. . . we can't handle one little Japanese boy," Cologne answered.

"Why no want to use?"

"He won't be much of a husband—most of his willpower will have vanished, and he'll trail after you like a lost puppy."

"Promise? Like puppy? Not like stupid duck, yes?" Shampoo grinned, the gleam in her eyes as bright and dangerous as a jigsaw blade. Cologne sighed in resignation and nodded.

"Promise. Now, Shampoo, are you absolutely sure you can land two punches on him?"

"Why?"

"That's what you need to do to activate the potion—it's a variation of the Masochist Love Concoction, after all. Hit him twice, Shampoo, and he'll be your slave for life."

"Slave? Like blind duck? That no good. . ."

"Do it anyway."

"Akane. . . " came the voice from the smashed man on the sidewalk. He peeled himself up, to find her standing, glowering at him with her mallet still raised. His heart began to pound wildly, and his stomach tried to claw its way out through his eyes—was this what love felt like? Love, that burning, eternal pain!

"Akane!" he cried, throwing himself at her waist. And there he hung, attatched like a limpet to the body of his goddess, until she screamed and hit him again with the mallet.

"Do that again!" he demanded, getting down on his knees in front of her. Akane blinked furiously, her mallet dropping from nerveless fingers. He picked it up and held it out to her, but she was backing away from him with real fear in her eyes.

"Ranma, what. . . what are you doing?" she asked, her voice shaky. He crawled after her, aikido-style, and she began to run backwards. . . until she hit a brick wall.

"I love you, Akane, please, please punish me for all I have done to you!" he cried, not knowing where the words came from, only knowing that it must be his voice that said them, it sounded like him. . . her eyes got wide and she began to inch down the wall.

"What is this, are you possessed by Kuno or something?" she asked. He placed the mallet in her hands and closed her fingers around the handle.

"Please, Akane. I realized, at last, that I love you. I love you! I have ever since that first day of school, when you took care of me in a way no one else ever has. You're the only one I trust when my mind is shattered and feral, you're the only one, the only one. . . I want to spend my life in the pain of your embrace, please, please Akane! Marry me, rule me, make me your own!" Ranma pleaded, his earnest blue eyes boring into hers with a frightening intensity.

"This. . . this is not happening," she said slowly. "This is not funny, Ranma. Stop it. Let go. . . let go of my hands."

"But I long to feel the weight of your weapon on my skull!" he whined. Akane felt the beginnings of hyperventilation in her chest, and fought it down. She jerked her hands away from him, banging her elbows on the brick wall behind her. He was on his feet in a flash, the mallet forgotten on the ground between them. He took her arms gently, looking at her elbows where she'd hurt them.

"Stop it, Ranma, you're acting weird. Did you eat Kodachi's cooking today?" she asked, trying to ignore the fact that he was about an inch away from her. She tried to wrest her arm out of his grasp, but he held on—gently, but firmly. She was starting to think this guy wasn't Ranma at all, but some sort of imposter. . . Copycat Ken, maybe, or someone who'd learned a similar ability.

"No, Akane, no," was all he would reply. Bending, he caught her lips against his own, just a gentle brush at first, but then . . . then something equally undemanding, but fiercer. . .. and now she KNEW he wasn't really Ranma!

She tried to push him away, but it was like pushing against a mountain. His hands traveled up her arms as gently as water lapping against the edges of a pool. She was almost tempted to just let him kiss her, enjoy it because heaven only knew if this would ever happen again. . . but on the other hand, she was pretty sure the REAL Ranma was going to waltz around the corner any minute.

She turned her head, wrenching her mouth away from his as her fist drew back to hit him. He didn't block, but stood there absorbing the blows with a beatific smile on his face. She smacked him across the face, and he came for her. . . not an attack, exactly, but another kiss, rougher than the first because this time he had grabbed a fistful of her hair to keep her from turning away from him.

"Ranma, if you know what's good for you," she threatened, but was cut off by means of him sealing her mouth with his. . . for the third time. She drew back her hand and smacked him hard, across the face, but he didn't move. In fact, when she did that, his tongue darted between her parted lips, and she squealed in indignation.

Panicking now, she began to rain blows upon him… anything he had that she could hit, she did. She even bit down on his tongue, and tasted blood. But he didn't draw away—in fact, he leaned into her. And she could tell he was happy to stay just where he was.

"UUUUUuuuuuaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!" she screamed, pushing him back with a ki blast. He stood in shock for a moment, as if he hadn't known she could do that.

Which was just fine, because she hadn't known she could, either. Panicking apparently has it's advantages. . . she scooped up the mallet and sent him flying. As she watched him disappear into the distance, she felt her insides freeze.

What the hell had just happened?

With the taste of his blood still in her mouth and the feel of his hands warm on her flesh, she ran for all she was worth.

As luck would have it, he landed about two feet to the left of Cologne.

"Son in law!" she gasped, staring at him as he peeled himself up off the dirt. "Did Akane send you flying again?"

"Yeah, guess she did," he muttered, dusting himself off. He looked around as she calculated the likelihood of the Tendo girl having hit him twice already. She decided it was unlikely, since usually Akane seemed to run into him and instantly mallet the boy sky high. So, probably only one hit.

That was just exactly why she'd configured the potion to take effect after two hits. She wasn't a fool.

"I guess I'm right where I'm supposed to be," the boy mused. He then turned his attention back to her, and her great-grandaughter. "So, old ghoul, what did you call me out here for?"

No reason to lie. "Shampoo and I are going back to China, and we want to settle things with you."

"Oh?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. She nodded.

"If Shampoo can beat you, we will call your marriage annulled and she will be released of her obligation to you." Of course, after she hits you twice, you'll want her to beat you senseless—the odds are on my side, sonny.

"What if I win?" he asked, cocky as ever. I hid a smile.

"I guess you can name your terms." You'll want to come with us, anyway. You can think you're winning for now.

"Well, if I win, I want you to drop the kiss of marriage and the kiss of death—that goes for the kiss of death you gave Akane, too," he announced. Cologne raised her eyebrows, feigning shock.

"So you get what you want win or lose? That's hardly fair, sonny."

"You're one to talk about fair. Look, you're going back to China, and I'm staying here, so it doesn't matter what the terms are or who wins. My incentive for winning is you take off the kiss of death you gave to my fiancé."

"No more talk," Shampoo spat, boriboris at the ready. "Fight now."

"NABIKI!" Akane's voice rang through the house. The mercenary sighed, and closed her notebook.

Her life was over. Akane had probably seen Ranma kissing Shampoo in the empty lot or something, and now she was going to blame her big sister, who had never wanted anything but her happiness. . .it was a hard life, the life of Nabiki Tendo. It certainly was.

Pah.

"Nabiki, you've got to help me! Hide me!" Akane cried, bursting through the door of her room. She slammed it behind her, and proceeded to try and stuff herself into the closet.

Now that. . . that Nabiki hadn't been expecting.

"Um, Akane? Why are you trying to hide in my closet?"

"Ranma!"

"What about him?"

"He went, well, he went absolutely completely berserk, and he kissed me and then he wouldn't let go of me and. . ."

"What?"

"He KISSED me, Nabiki! He kissed me and he told me he loved me!" Akane rounded on her sister, panic blazing in her eyes. "So somewhere out there is a crazed clone of Ranma and he wants to do dirty things to my naked body!"

"Uh-huh," Nabiki muttered. Clearly, something had gone wrong with Cologne's little plan. Honestly, a standard, at first sight sort of love potion? Something Akane could trigger? Shouldn't Cologne have known better by now?

But that didn't help her row her way out of shit creek, didn't help at all.

"Okay, Akane, tell you what. You stay here, and hide under the bed until I come back for you. I'm going to go try to . . . fix things."

With that, she took her checkbook, and she headed out for the Nekohanten, hoping Cologne would accept something else as payment to keep her mouth shut. She spent the entire walk over there in agony, anticipating how much it would cost her to hush Cologne. Or, if the matriarch refused to be hushed, how much it would cost her to keep the police out of her family affairs. When you have people living under your roof whose hands count as registered weapons, the law gets a bit tangled around you. How could she ever repair the damage to Tofu's respect for her sister?

He would just have to put his money where his glasses fogged up and love her anyway, damn him.

When she arrived at the Cat Café, they were packing.

How she had longed for the sight of them packing!

"How did it go?" she asked the elderly woman, hopping around on her cane. She was surprised when the death-glare of Cologne wasn't directed at her, but at Shampoo.

"Someone wussed out."

"I no 'wuss out'" Shampoo muttered. Cologne snorted.

"You didn't want a subservient husband. You wouldn't hit him."

"Shampoo COULDN'T hit him. Ranma too fast for Shampoo."

"Yeah, right. I think you might deserve Mousse as your husband after all, Shampoo. As punishment."

"But, Great-Grandmother!" the purple-haired Amazon cried, dropping the pile of dishes she was carting around. Cologne glared pointedly at the mess, and Shampoo-silent for once in her life- bent to begin picking it up.

Interesting.

"So, I take it our deal has been completed?" Nabiki asked, keeping her voice cool, level. It's always best to start out from a position of power—or as much power as you could in a given situation. If she started out admitting she might have failed, the matriarch would surely use it to her advantage.

"Well, now, Nabiki Tendo, I'm not sure about that," said Cologne slowly, measuring Nabiki with her eyes. "After all, we are leaving without Ranma."

"Due to failure on the part of Shampoo, not myself," Nabiki said brazenly, hoping Cologne wouldn't notice how tightly she was gripping her purse. With one of their potions they could make her think anything, anything at all—piss Cologne off and she might spend the rest of her life thinking she was a bunny rabbit.

"Perhaps, perhaps not," Cologne muttered. A wide grin broke out on her wizened face. "Tell you what, I'll make you another deal. I'll let this one slide, and keep these things to myself—for a time. But if I need you in the future, you or Ranma or Akane or anyone else, you firstborn daughter if need be, you will come running and bring them with you. I want a favor from you, Nabiki Tendo, and I want it in writing."

Trust the old ghoul to take advantage. Still, she'd gotten off easy, hadn't she? There was a possibility Cologne would forget all about that favor. . . oh, who was she kidding? She was going to regret this later.

When Akane emerged from under Nabiki's bed that night, Ranma was sitting in the hallway, waiting for her. He took a look at her and grinned, sheepishly.

"I guess you didn't like me kissing you, huh?" he asked, trying to keep his voice light. The fear on her face was ripping him apart. He'd thought about it on the way home, rejoicing in the bruises she'd given him. He liked the pain, but he was beginning to think she might not like him.

And that hurt, a hell of a lot.

And he loved it, and loved her the more for it. She just kept thinking of ways to make him agonize, new, inventive sorts of torture. She'd taken it beyond the physical now, and was tormenting his very soul.

He loved her. He'd finally admitted it, and she hadn't said she loved him, too.

Now, looking at her, half of him hoped she would say it now. Make him the happiest man alive. But the other half prayed she would hate him, so he could suffer eternally for her sake.

"I. . . are you feeling all right, Ranma?" she asked him. No answer. Uncertainty held its own torture, and it took all of his restraint not to kiss her for her answer. She would only hit him again.

Saotome, you're supposed to be talking yourself OUT of it. he thought. For her, he gave a happy smile.

"I'm feeling fine. Hey, were you going to cook tonight? I'd sure love to have some of your . . . um, gyoza dumplings?" he said. A smile broke out on her face, more radiant than the sun.

"Really?" she asked. He nodded. She skipped past him and down to the kitchen. He followed, ready to commit his life to the exquisite torture of loving Akane Tendo. He expected her cooking would be one of the more painful things he would get to endure, and he was looking forward to it.

Little did he know that as she skipped, Akane was frantically wondering where the REAL Ranma was.

"That's the real Ranma, all right—his aura is exactly the same as Ranma's, and that's nearly impossible to reproduce. Besides, the Jusenkyou curse isn't easy to artificially manufacture. It's really him, he's just . . . well, he took some love potion again," Dr. Tofu sighed, keeping his voice low so Ranma wouldn't hear in the next room. Akane's brow furrowed in confusion.

"But he doesn't just act like he loves me. He wants me to hurt him," she whispered. Dr. Tendo shrugged.

"I'm betting on some variation of the Masochist Love Concoction. Normal masochists are one thing, but the victims of that potion. . . they're something else entirely. But it fades, don't worry."

"So Ranma will get back to normal?" she asked, worry in her features. To her great surprise, Dr. Tofu just laughed at her.

"Aside from being nicer to you, what's really changed?" he asked.

See, wasn't that much better than them angrily kissing for no reason in the middle of a fight? I feel better. I hope each and every one of you has a wonderful day.


End file.
